The Colour of Her
by Viv1
Summary: Angel and Cordelia's friendship is changing, evolving. But in which direction? Complete.
1. Part One

The Colour of Her ****

The Colour of Her

By [Viv][1]

STATUS: In progress  
CATEGORY: C/A Friendship/Romance  
RATING: PG-13  
SPOILERS/SEASON INFO: General Angel Season 2, Buffy Season 5. 

ARCHIVE: Please contact me first! Mostly I'm going to agree.  
  
SUMMARY: Angel and Cordelia's friendship is changing, evolving. But in which direction? 

DISCLAIMER: All characters on 'Angel' and 'Buffy: The Vampire Slayer" that  
appear in this story are owned soley and exclusively by Mutant Enemy,  
Twentieth Century and Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt. The author is in no  
way appropriating these characters for monetary gains, and any infringement  
on the rights of the aforementioned companies or individuals is wholly  
unintended. References to place names and plot lines that have appeared on  
'Angel' and 'Buffy' are likewise the property of the above companies or said  
individuals.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is set about 6 months after 'There's No Place Like Plrtz Glrb'. Buffy has died but she has been resurrected (thereby bypassing Angel angst). Fred is there but since I haven't seen anything past Dead End I can't write her too well. 

Copyright (c) Vivian Ngan June 2001  


****

> ~*~* Part One~*~* 

Wesley's fingers drummed incessantly on the counter top, his face contorted into an agonised expression. His clear intelligent eyes stared fixedly onto the deceptively chirping figure in front of him, who was scurrying about their small office area preoccupied with last minute filing. Her cheerful, almost bubbling energy inexplicably grated on his nerves, and it was all he could do to unleash his pent-up frustration on the table and not onto her. Behind him he could hear Angel's familiar pacing, his footsteps even, treading the well-worn Hyperion Hotel lobby floor to almost marble-like smoothness. Faintly in the background he heard the sound of softly sipped coffee; Wesley estimated that Gunn must be onto his fourth cup by now. 

Cordelia turned around, sensing Wesley's frustration behind her. A perfect eyebrow arched in inquiry. 

"Wesley, go home. It's not like there are any demons to fight. There's no research you can do, no big bad bringing the apocalypse to our recently renovated, and might I say, really expensive door. I'm vision gal and *I'm* bored." She stared pointedly at him, taking in his tired glare without flinching. "Go home and annoy someone else, okay?"

Wesley was about to retort indignantly, but thought better of it. Especially in this case when Cordelia happened to be, well, right.

He sighed almost dramatically, already revelling in the knowledge that he might be able to spend a rare evening at home, reading up on the latest archaeological digs in Peru. He wasn't really all that keen on going out tonight; somehow between their return from Pylea, Buffy's surprising resurrection, and the recent rash of demon activity in and about the city, there had been little time for him to do anything *but* think of work. A man could only read up on so many demons before he got well and truly sick of it. 

"You're right Cordy." He stood up, happily feeling the blood returning to his slightly cramped legs. He stretched his arms about him as an inadvertent yawn escaped. "It's been a long day, and I am rather tired. I think I might head home." 

He heard Gunn's chair scratch on the floor behind him. "I think I might be heading out too. Might check in on the neighbourhood, see if this no-demon thing is happening there too." He looked over to Wesley who was busy putting on his coat. "Okay if I hitch a ride with you English?" 

"Of course." Wesley looked back to Cordelia who had resumed her filing. Sometime during the excruciatingly boring week, she had decided that their filing system needed to change. That is, she thought they should actually start to have a system that actually made sense. 

"Cordy, what about you? Those files could, ah, wait until Monday you know." Wesley looked towards the younger woman who was still busy reorganising their piles of recent work into a single, orderly heap. 

"No it's okay Wes. Think I might finish up here and then head on home." 

"Are you sure?" Wesley said hesitantly, feeling like he was treading on very thin ice. "It's Friday night you know, and ... well, you should go out ... or something. You know, enjoy the night life. Get out there, have some fun." He stepped forward, his eyes shining earnestly. "The work can wait." He added softly.

Her gaze softened; she realised what he was trying to do. She knew it had worried all of them that she hadn't been going out, being the old Queen C of Sunnydale High days. But honestly she wasn't unhappy about her current lifestyle. It might sound ludicrous coming from her, but Cordelia actually preferred the quieter moments spent in the silences of her apartment to the deafening beat of some ultra trendy, ultra hard to get into club, where men's eyes roved over her body like it was some piece of meat, and where women made fatal judgments about her just by the shade of her clothes. There was something about the quiet stillness of being alone, being silent ... peaceful, alone in her head without the noise or pain or fear from her visions. Cordelia actually found herself being able to savour the silence of stillness, the silence of just ... being. 

"Wesley ..." She let her voice trail off, thankful for his concern. She didn't mind that he or Gunn or even Angel liked to harp at her about going out more. It showed that they cared. "I'm good. Honestly. If I want to go out I will, *believe* me. I just want to stay in tonight."

Wesley nodded in acknowledgment. "All right." He grabbed his helmet and headed out the hotel doors. "See you on Monday." 

"Catch ya later Cordy!"

"See ya guys." With that they were gone, and Cordelia had a moment to savour the absence of Wesley's annoying drumming on the counter top. A moment .... before Angel sauntered over to her side, carefully avoiding the rays of the late afternoon sun in his path. 

"You know Cordy ... " She put down the files she had just picked up and looked squarely at him. His tone was deceptively casual, but Cordelia could always tell when he had something specific on his mind. Sometimes he could use three, up to five sentences to come around to the point, especially when he was apprehensive about how she'd react to whatever he was saying. She waited patiently as he continued. 

"... You should really listen to what Wes says. I mean ... we've all been worried about you. Once or twice a week it's good to stay home, but ... I mean, we, I, that is, we --" 

She cut him off, unable to let his painful stammering continue. He had been really good lately, keeping his stammerage to a minium. But now it was back in full force and as his Seer and his friend, it was her sacred duty to stop him - fast. 

"Angel, stop." He paused obediently, wondering if he had succeeded in offending her in record time. Usually it took upwards of three sentences for him to do that. Not that he had been counting. Or even, wondering for that matter. 

"Look, I know you guys are worried. It's fine okay ... it *really* is." She sighed as she took a small step to the side, plonking herself on the soft, slightly lumpy hotel lobby couch. "The truth is, I just haven't felt like going out. I've ... learnt to feel content with myself, you know? It's like ... maybe it's because of my visions or whatever, but ... I can really ... appreciate *life* more now, more than when I was May Queen, with my Cordettes or whenever." She paused as he sat beside her, his expression softening, a preclude to what Cordelia secretly referred to as his endearing puppy-eyed look. "This sounds lame but ... the time's I've been the loneliest are the times I've been surrounded by people. In high school I was all like, surrounded by these bunch of sheep who'd agree with me no matter what I said. They weren't listening to me ... not really, they didn't care about *me*. Angel, I'm happier now than when I was at Sunnydale High. So okay, it might've had something to do with the whole going to school on the Hellmouth thing, but ... " She smiled sheepishly. "I don't think I've ever really told anyone that." 

He smiled at her, his chocolate brown orbs warming her heart. "That doesn't sound lame at all Cordy. Makes sense." There was silence as they both basked in the tenderness of the moment, with Cordelia secretly wishing that it could go on forever. Angel may not have been the most forthcoming vampire in the world, but she discovered that when he paid attention to her, when he really showed that he cared about *her* - it felt like the beginning of a new world. A world where she would never be without a friend ... a world where she would always be there to take care of him. Different from the one where he had fired her and she had just ... left. Left him alone with his demon, forcing him to near self-destruction. 

She brushed that momentarily distressing thought aside as he spoke up. "I mean, I understand that, believe me I do. It's just that ... I can't help thinking that you *should* be out there ... having fun. Living life ... You know, 'cause you actually have one." 

"You're worried about the vision thing, aren't you?" She asked him bluntly. "About how it's affecting me? And before you say anything else - it's not your fault. It's never been your fault."

He smiled gratefully, slightly comforted that she could read his mind so well. "I know." He paused, searching for the right words. "It's just that ... I want you to be happy."

She jumped in to reassure him, "Angel - I *am* happy. Especially with the way things are now." Cordelia gave him her trade marked thousand watt smile, and he felt his unbeating heart tremble slightly. Things *were* good for them at the moment - it had been a year since he had fired his three friends and he felt that just in the past couple of months they had really started accepting each other for the people, or in his case, the vampire that they all were now. Buffy was alive again ... slightly different, but she was still Buffy and best of all - she wasn't dead. And now they had little Fred to take care of ... Angel felt like they truly were 'a family'. One that would last.

His mind returned to the present, observing Cordelia's gentle brown eyes gaze penetratingly into his own. "I know. I just ..." He smiled sheepishly, not really minding that his emotions were plainly etched across his ageless face. "... I like to see you smile." 

Cordelia smiled at that; she couldn't help it. Angel was so adorable when he had that puppy dog look ... one that suggested that he'd do anything to see her smile, or laugh, or grin, or some other happy word that made her feel really good. 

They were both grinning like idiots now. 

"So anyway ..." Angel trailed off, breaking her reverie. "I was thinking, that, you know, maybe ... if you weren't too tired, or if you weren't really doing anything, I mean, if you wanted to ... We could ... you know ..." He looked at her, struggling to get his almost absurd suggestion out, "We could ..." 

She looked at him expectantly. She had no idea what he was trying to say. 

"... maybe have dinner? Or something ... else." As her feeling of surprise diffused over her expressive features, Angel blundered on feeling more foolish by the moment. "I mean, if you want to, that is. I mean, I know I'm not the most sociable person, or the most happy one for that matter, but ah ... yeah." He finally succeeded in clamping his rambling mouth shut. 

Angel took one look at her face and knew it had been a mistake to open his big ... fat ... mouth. What had prompted him to even make such a ridiculous suggestion to her? In the past if she had wanted to spend the evening with him she would always just tell him to come over to her place, cook her some food and rent a couple of movies with 'some Hollywood hottie' in it. Or maybe come fully stocked to his room at the Hyperion, with the same aforementioned movies. And possibly some popcorn, blood, and a change of clothes for the next day. 

He sighed. Judging by the look on her face, she was surprised, no doubt about it. What was he going to say now? 

"I mean, we could you know, get some take-out and watch some videos. Or something." He paused. "I'll just shut up now." He was so good at making judgment calls during battles. Why couldn't he have the same good judgment in this life ... stuff? 

Cordelia tilted her head to the side, pretending to think it over. Dinner with Angel ... alone? Those big chocolate brown, puppy dog eyes twinkling and sparkling over a really nice, gourmet meal for two? Hmmm ... Was the choice all that hard? 

She unleashed her full-blown, Queen C smile. "No." 

Angel did a double take, his heart plummeting to the depths of his stomach, through his shoes and making a bizarre squishing noise on the floor as it splattered and splintered into a thousand pieces. Why not?

"Why not?" 

"Because ... " She smiled mischievously, feeling slightly bad that she was putting him through even a few brief seconds of torture. "Because, I'd rather go out to a really nice, *expensive* restaurant with a certain vampire with a soul who wears *way* too much black but has really good taste in clothes and loves to pay for whatever his favourite seer likes to eat?" She smiled winsomely at him, batting her eyelashes to good effect. 

Angel gulped for unnecessary air. "That's ... that's me, right?" 

She wacked him on the chest. "Yes, dorkhead it's you. How many vampires with a soul do *you* know running around L.A?" 

He smiled, his dark eyes shining. This was good. This was ... interesting. Dinner with Cordelia. Alone. Maybe with some candles. And food, and maybe ... even wine. Maybe flowers? Should he bring some flowers? A nice bouquet of blood red roses, because Cordelia looks really nice in red ... it was definitely her colour ... 

"Angel?" His mind snapped back to the present. 

"Hmmm?"

"I said, pick me up at seven-ish?" 

"Ah ... sure." He looked at his watch. "Are you going to be ready on time? 'Cause you know Cordy, you have this habit of ah, you know ..."

She gave him a steely gaze, a dangerous glint evident in her eyes. "Yes?"

"You know ... you kinda ... tend to be, sort of ... late." 

"Oh that." She brushed his concern off as she stood up to collect her coat. "Angel, one thing you have *got* to learn about women is that we're *always* late. And that we like good food and nice clothes." She paused and smiled. "But I guess you already got that last part." 

"Learning's good." He helped her put her coat on as he stood up, herding her towards the door. 

A slightly awkward silence ensued, in which Angel suddenly started feeling the extreme warmth that was emanating from his Seer in front of him. She smelt ... she smelt so good, a heterogenous mix of sun-drenched warmth and apple-scented shampoo. And there was something else too, something decidedly alluring at that moment about Cordelia and her vixen good looks, her expressive and mischievous brown eyes that were staring straight into his own as he leaned closer and closer ...

She broke off the moment by stepping away slightly, confusion colouring her features. 

"So, I'll see you around seven?" She said with false brightness. 

"Sure." Angel felt anxiety rising up within himself. What the hell had just happened? Had been about to happen? "Around seven." He repeated autonomously. 

"Okay. See ya." Cordelia took a deep breath as she hurried outside. She felt funny. There was a funny though not unpleasant churning in the pit of her stomach. It felt icky. She and Angel had spent a *lot* of time alone in the past, and it had never felt like this. This felt like ... 

She gulped. It felt like a date. 

Oh God. Was it a date? He kinda asked her out to dinner, and she kinda sorta said yes. And he was kinda picking her up at her place. At seven. And they had just ... kinda been about to do something ... else. Something decidedly date-ish. 

Checking her watch and realising that she only had two hours to get back to her apartment and get ready, she hurried along. Whatever tonight was, or was not, she was going to look damn good; she would guarantee that. Cordelia Chase always looked drop dead gorgeous a night out, date or no date. And Angel might just have his eyes opened to that for the very first time.

   [1]: mailto:vivngan@iname.com



	2. Part Two

The Colour of Her - Part Two ****

The Colour of Her

By [Viv][1]

> *~*~ **Part Two **~*~*
> 
> Cordelia looked at herself critically in the mirror. There was something wrong with the picture. Something ... off.
> 
> "Dennis, do you think this is better than my red halter top with the black split skirt?" She looked at her image in the mirror. She was currently trying on her third outfit in five minutes and nothing seemed right. Everything was either too casual or too dressy, too daring or too mousy, or god forbid, too sexy. 
> 
> Cordelia wanted to scream in frustration. Damn that man ... well, vampire. Why did he have to start giving her the 'date' vibe? Usually when she dressed for a night with Angel it'd be strictly casual - jeans, top and sweater. No question about it. 
> 
> Now? Cordelia grumbled inwardly at herself in the mirror. This wasn't right. The top didn't look right. 
> 
> "Dennis? Help me out here?" 
> 
> A blood red top floated out of her closet and was deposited gently into her hands. It was made of beautiful material, looking and feeling much more expensive than anything Cordelia had bought for herself in a long, long time. It was exactly her colour, and would set off her elegantly dark features with striking clarity. 
> 
> "This one? Really?" Cordelia surveyed the top and knew in her heart of hearts it was the right one. Not because she really trusted Dennis to have better taste than her; she'd be dead in her grave before she lost her sense of fashion and good taste. It was just that it was the first one she had tried on and she had loved the way it had looked on her. It made her feel beautiful, elegant and confidently sexy. It fitted and moulded its way about her curves with astonishing agility, and teamed with her black split skirt - the outfit was a killer. It would slay any man dead in his tracks, even if he was already dead - including her former vampire with a soul boss.
> 
> It was also one of the nicer tops that Angel had bought for her a few months back. 
> 
> Cordelia didn't know why she couldn't wear it. She didn't want Angel to think that she'd worn it because he'd given it to her - it'd make things even more uncomfortable tonight if he thought she had meant something by it. On the other hand, this was what she wanted to wear. Why should she be afraid that Angel, her good, good friend, would read more into it than just having extremely good taste in clothes?
> 
> Cordelia decided that she shouldn't be afraid of what Angel might think. So what if dinner was more like a 'date' tonight? Angel was still Angel, one of her closest friends, and she was going to have a great time with him no matter what. 
> 
> She sighed. How did things get so complicated, so quickly? Had she imagined what had happened this afternoon at the Hyperion? What if Angel hadn't meant anything by that gaze and she was making a huge deal about nothing? What if ...
> 
> Well, she couldn't worry about that now. She had half an hour to make herself look gorgeous and she wasn't even half dressed yet. Her hair was unruly and she had to dig out the perfect pair of shoes to go with the killer outfit - she was running short on time as it was. Worrying about what tonight was going to bring or mean would come *after* she stepped out of her room looking stunning. Angel and his gaze and his chocolate brown melt in your mouth eyes would just have to wait a few more minutes. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Angel stood in front of his closet, bare chested, hair wet and feeling slightly helpless. For the umpteenth time in his extremely long un-life he wished that he could see himself in the mirror. He could put up with drinking blood, with not being able to go out in sunlight ... with, well just anything - except for not being able to see his reflection. 
> 
> He sighed inwardly. Okay, he was lying to himself. Usually he'd have no problem with the no reflection situation. Usually he'd wake up and just grab the first thing he wanted to wear, moussed his hair and that was it. No problem. 
> 
> But tonight? Nothing looked right. Absolutely ... nothing. Angel wasn't pedantic, and he usually didn't care all that much about what he was wearing - just as long as he was actually wearing *something* he was satisfied. But the black shirt, pants and brown leather jacket he had worn today somehow didn't seem dressy enough for a night on the town. 
> 
> He rummaged his wardrobe again. Why was everything black? Cordelia was always harping at him about wearing too much black, and for the first time he realised that she was right. Everything in his wardrobe was black. 
> 
> He really didn't want to wear black tonight. It seemed too sombre, too ... depressing. Too dark. He wanted to look nice for Cordy, didn't want her to feel embarrassed about being seen with a serial brooder like him. 
> 
> He sat back onto the edge of his bed. What the hell was happening to him? This afternoon, things had been fine. Things were good. A lot boring, but good. And then he had to do the stammering thing, and do the ... nearly kissing his best friend thing. 
> 
> He groaned. There, he had admitted it to himself for the first time since it happened. He had tried to kiss Cordelia - his seer, his best friend ... and she hadn't run away, terrified at his insanity. She had just looked confused. Confused was good, right? Better than outright rejection, at least. 
> 
> Okay, he *had* to stop thinking about his Cordy this way. What the hell was the matter with him? Things were great between them now, they were closer than ever. He should just leave things be.
> 
> Yes. He should just leave things be. Leave them the way they were, and things will be ... fine. 
> 
> Feeling like he'd struggled through a major crisis, Angel got up off his bed and quickly scanned his closet for something other than black. There were a few blues, some browns ... some greys. He definitely needed to buy more shirts. Maybe he could get Cordy to pick a few things out for him, seeing as she had such good taste in clothes and she was always telling him to wear more colour. 
> 
> Angel dragged his wandering mind to the present and concentrated. He *needed* to find something to wear. 
> 
> He rummaged around some more and at last pulled out a red silk shirt at the back of the closet. He scrutinised it, noting the myriad of creases where it had been folded untidily and dumped along with the other shirts he hardly ever wore. 
> 
> He held it up against his chest and felt it's rustling smoothness against his cold, marble smooth skin. It definitely *felt* good. The shirt had been a present from Cordelia after all his clothes had gone the way of his blown-up apartment; and at the time he had decorously and politely accepted her generosity without telling her that it was probably *way* too flashy for him to wear in L.A. He hadn't worn anything like it since his Sunnydale days; he had cared much more about the way he looked then. He dug out a pair of newly dry-cleaned pants and a black leather belt. Feeling satisfied, he looked around for an iron - he knew there was one somewhere around.
> 
> Ten minutes later, with his hair moussed and with the shirt now carefully ironed, he returned to his room feeling surprisingly upbeat. This felt good ... it really did. He was putting a lot of effort into getting dressed tonight, but strangely it didn't make him feel all that strange. It felt ... good, that he was trying to look nice for someone. For Cordy. 
> 
> He wished he could double-check his appearance, but he had to be satisfied with a cursory glance down to make sure that his shirt was tucked in properly. He hoped that he wasn't sending any spurious messages to Cordy by wearing Cordy's shirt - it made him look nice, and well ... nice was good. Nice was good for Cordy ... right? 
> 
> Checking his watch and realising that he would be late if he fussed any longer, Angel ran a last minute hand over his hair to ensure it was properly moussed. He still had some time to get Cordy some flowers. He felt sure that Cordy would like flowers ... maybe a nice bouquet of roses. It would make her feel appreciated, and Angel knew that he didn't get around to telling her how important she was to him enough. Flowers would be good, not romantic at all. 
> 
> Grabbing his keys, Angel switched off the lights and headed out the door. He hoped that tonight he would be treated to a whole evening of watching his adorable Seer smile. And that would definitely make him happy ... well, as happy as he could be anyway. 

(c) Vivian Ngan June 2001

   [1]: mailto:vivngan@iname.com



	3. Part Three

The Colour of Her - Part Three ****

The Colour of Her

By [Viv][1]

> *~*~ **Part Three **~*~*

> Cordelia patiently put on the final touches of her lipstick and carefully surveyed her reflection in the mirror. She was almost ready. Just a few more carefully applied touches to her lips and even *she* would be satisfied. 

> The ringing of her door bell interrupted her final preparations. Checking her watch she realised with a tinge of surprise that Angel had managed to be late. She realised happily that she could probably use it as ammunition for the *next* time she happened to be late for work. 

> Cordelia smiled at her reflection, the ringing on the door bell becoming incessant. She was in no hurry - she was content to let Angel wait a few minutes longer. 

> Did she look too dressy? Her outfit certainly made her look stunning, and Cordelia felt a surge of panic as she realised that it may have made her look a little *too* stunning. What if she opened the door and Angel was just dressed in his usual black, black and black, and she looked like she had spent the last hour and a half on her appearance? Which she had. But Angel didn't need to know just how much effort she had put into looking good tonight. 

> She bit her lip, frowning at herself momentarily in the mirror. What should she do? Change? But Angel was already here and by the sound of the door bell, getting impatient. 

> Cordelia decided that there was no help for it - she would live and die by this outfit. It was too late to change now, and Angel was already on her doorstep. She looked on the bright side - at least she'd die of embarrassment looking absolutely stunning. 

> "I'm coming, I'm coming!" She shouted over the din as she checked her appearance one last time. Satisfied that nothing was out of place, she opened the door ... 

> ... and came face to face with a truly magnificent sight of Angel looking - she gasped involuntarily - absolutely gorgeous. 

> Oh God, she thought to herself. He actually looked *gorgeous*. This was her former boss ... her best friend ... her saviour ... her warrior ... And she was gawking at him like he was some Hollywood hottie, fedex-ed to her very door. 

> Before she could stop herself she found her eyes roving freely up and down his - and she couldn't stress this enough - absolutely gorgeous body. He had discarded his customary all-black ensemble for the night and now wore a deceptively trendy black suit, teamed with a truly fashion-inspiring red silk shirt. The shirt faintly registered in Cordelia's mind as the one she had given him after his apartment had blown up. Wow. She had no idea how good it would actually look on him when she had bought it but ... wow. She had *really* good taste.

> Cordelia blushed as she realised she was actually ... *totally* checking Angel out. This was *Angel* for crying out loud. How could this be happening? How could he look all normal and nice and ... just so *Angel* day in day out, and then show up at her apartment looking like *this*? How could he do this to her? How was she expected to keep herself in control, when he looked so ... so ... so much like some extreme gorgeous hunk of man meat? 

> Okay Chase, she admonished herself. Cordelia made herself breathe in, then out. She should probably say something before Angel noticed that she was actually ... god ... checking him out. And *really* liking what she saw.

> "Angel, Hi." She kept her voice deceptively calm, and was surprised at how rational and normal she sounded. This was good. She was an actress - she would act. She would act normal, because this was Angel. Her good friend. Her warrior. Her *best* friend. 

> "Cordelia." Angel smiled through the tide of breathlessness he was experiencing, having nearly been incapacitated by the stunning sight of his best friend ... his seer ... looking absolutely, gorgeously, beautifully ... stunning. There was no other way to describe her. 

> "You look nice." It was all Angel could squeeze out of his almost paralysed mouth. His eyes roved instinctively over the stark beauty standing in front him before settling onto ... was that his top? Well, not specifically *his* top, since he had given it to her, but ... yes, Angel felt sure that was one of the nicer tops he had given to Cordelia just after the whole Darla thing. Was she wearing it for him? Angel didn't want to think about that. 

> The top certainly suited her. Very, very well. Almost too well with the way it hugged the luscious curves on her tanned and trimmed body ... He inhaled deeply. He needed air. For keeping calm. And collected. 

> Cordelia blushed slightly, carefully concealing herself in the half-shadow created by the illumination of the lamp beside her. "Thanks." She was completely taken aback by how ... gentlemanly he was being. Was this Angel, behaving so ... date-ish? Oh god, it *was* a date. "So do you. Um, look nice that is." 

> Angel was thrown, he was truly shocked. He had always known that Cordelia was a stunning beauty, a dark featured vixen that would make any man's head turn. Even in Sunnydale he had noticed it, but it had never truly hit him until now. Not until she had opened the door, framed alluringly by the warmest of glows emanating from the light behind her in her apartment did he realise - she was beautiful. His Cordy was utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.

> Angel gulped; he was completely unprepared for the waves of emotion cascading over his body. Completely and totally unprepared for the sudden need for oxygen. And his hands ... why were they shaking? 

> To disguise his slightly trembling hands, Angel reached out from behind his back and produced the bouquet of roses he had been hiding from her. She squealed aloud in surprise. 

> "These are for you. Hope you like red." Cordelia was touched - she couldn't remember the last time a man had bought her flowers. Not just any flowers, but her favourite - red roses. She dipped her head forward to drink in its drifting sweetness. 

> "Thank you." Angel was gratified to notice that she seemed genuinely touched. This was good. Cordy was smiling, which meant that she was happy. Which meant that he was happy. It was all good. 

> "They're really nice Angel. And -" Cordelia paused, wondering if it was the right thing to say. "I love red." 

> She took the roses and rummaged around her apartment for a vase to put them in. Angel closed the door as he followed her in, relishing the perfume of absolute Cordelia drifting in the air.

> "Hi Dennis." He greeted Cordelia's otherworldly roommate. "How's things?" 

> A glass of water floated its way towards him, and Angel gladly took the proffered drink. He didn't know why, but suddenly his mouth was feeling decidedly dry. 

> "Okay, now we're ready." Cordelia sauntered back into the room and set the vase on the counter top, which was now artfully brimming with the roses he had just given to her. She gave him an infectiously patented Cordelia Chase smile, and Angel couldn't help but smile back. Time seemed to stretch to a melodious crawl as they simply smiled at each other, and in that moment of stillness Angel realised with astonishingly clarity that the very essence of his seer was shining in its totality through her eyes. 

> And she, the essence that was Cordelia, was beautiful. 

> "Angel?" Her voice cut off his reverie. 

> "Hmmm?"

> "Were you listening?" Cordelia sighed in mock exasperation, secretly noticing that he had been staring at her. "I said, if we plan to get to wherever we're going, we should get going. You made reservations right? 'Cause you know, last time we went to Citrus *someone* forgot to, oh I don't know, book ..."

> "That wasn't me." Angel objected as she raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him. "Besides," he back-tracked, "We had to kill that Moracite demon and you know how big and ... dangerous they are. And --"

> "Whatever." Cordelia cut him off as she put on her jacket. "I just hope you actually *remembered* this time? And not got side-tracked by oh say, a little unscheduled brooding?"

> "Of course I did." Angel stuck his hands in his pockets defensively and sighed somewhat dramatically. "Made reservations that is." Regardless of how beautiful and stunning she looked tonight, Angel realised that this was still the Cordy he knew. The Cordy who was his best friend and had no trouble telling him exactly what she thought of him, the Cordy who was uniquely capable of frustrating him to no end. And also the Cordy who could make him smile with a simple act. 

> "And I don't brood all that much any more." He protested, a smile creeping over his features. "Well ... at least I haven't in a while." 

> Cordelia grinned at him, playfully grabbing his arm. "Good. 'Cause no brooding's allowed tonight. Tonight is strictly expensive food with my best friend night. And maybe also some ice-cream?" 

> Angel found himself once more grinning back at his now fully smiling seer as she herded him out the door. This felt so nice, so ... right. Should being with Cordy feel this good? 

> His mind drifted back to earlier in the evening when he had made the decision to just leave things be with Cordelia. Could he conceivably still do that? Spend the entire night with her, drinking in her intoxicating warmth, her beauty, her smile, her sparkling eyes, and still leave with the feeling that she was nothing more to him than his best friend, his seer? To bury and forget what he was currently feeling, this wave of deepening emotion? 

> More importantly - did he really want to? 

> He pushed the questions out of his mind as he hopped into his black Plymouth. Angel just wanted to forget about everything but being with Cordelia tonight. Tonight was about making her happy, and Angel felt that whatever complications that could arise from spending time together would be sorted out eventually. 

> He chanced a glance sidewards, catching Cordelia as she instinctively checked her reflection in the rear view mirror. She still looked lovely to him, and he was really, truly looking forward to this. He felt good. *Really* good. 

> Which meant that this couldn't be bad ... right? 

> (c) Vivian Ngan July 2001

   [1]: mailto:vivngan@iname.com



	4. Part Four

The Colour of Her - Part Four ****

The Colour of Her

By [Viv][1]

*~*~ **Part Four **~*~* 

> "This is nice." Angel's gaze took in the elegant decor of the restaurant before settling onto Cordelia sitting opposite him, the glow of the candles forming a halo of light around her form. "Elegant." 

> "Yeah it is." Cordelia hadn't been able to stop grinning since she had first set her eyes on the restaurant. It had fulfilled even the highest of her expectations for the night, maybe even surpassed them a little. Which was a feat in itself. Cordelia had an enormous appreciation for splendour, and this place definitely suited it. 

> "Angel, I had no idea you even *knew* about this place. But ... don't you have to book like, a year ahead or something? How did you manage to get us reservations on such short notice? Kill a few demons for the owner?" 

> "I have my sources." Angel smirked. His casual demeanour masked the enormous trouble he had undergone in order to pull the last minute reservations off, although there had been no demon killings as such. It just so happened that there had been several people who owed him enormous favours ... and there had been several people who owed *those* people huge favours, and people who owed those people who owed *his* people favours, and well ... Angel didn't want to think about how he had managed to pull it off for fear of inducing an elephant-sized migraine. He was just content to bask in the knowledge that he was here. 

> A maître'd sauntered towards their table and meticulously arranged their menus in front of them. "Would monsieur and mademoiselle require any refreshments for tonight?" 

> Angel quickly scanned the menu in front of him and replied, "Je voudrais la carte de vins s'il vous plait." The maître'd smiled graciously and withdrew. 

> Cordelia leaned forward. "My high school French is a *little* rusty, but ... did you just ask for twenty postcards?" 

> Angel frowned while a smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. "Ah ... no. I asked him for the wine list." 

> "Oh." Cordelia settled back onto the back of her chair and sipped on a glass of water. Was she back to sounding like high school May Queen Cordelia, instead of the new and improved, L.A vision gal Cordelia? 

> And how come Angel was suddenly so busy showing off his French? Just because he *happened* to be alive during the French Revolution and all, didn't mean he could come off all suave and sophisticated, did it? 

> The maître'd returned quickly with the wine list, and Angel set about perusing its content as Cordelia covertly surveyed him. He was kinda cute when he was concentrating ... Cordelia noticed how his brow kinda crinkled up in concentration when he read. Not that she had spent *that* much time studying her friend, no siree, not her. 

> After the maître'd had taken their order and delivered their wine he retreated from their table. 

> "So ..." She sipped at the glass of wine before settling it back onto the table. "Done any brooding lately?" 

> Angel instinctively leaned forward and mock sighed. "No. And besides, what would I be brooding about?" 

> "Oh I don't know." Cordelia involuntarily leaned forward as she cupped her face alluringly in her hand. "There was a lot of that before. You know, with the whole Darla brooding, and the brooding about Darla. And then ... some more brooding about Darla." 

> "Cordy." Angel stopped short, willing to once and for all put those unfortunate set of events behind them. After their return from Pylea he had gone to great trouble (and expense, he discreetly added) in resolving the whole Darla thing with Cordy. He had also gone to a lot of trouble repairing the damage caused to his friendships with Wesley and Gunn, but the chief of the effort had been directed at Cordy because ... well, she hadn't reacted very well to the whole thing. Specifically with the whole sleeping with Darla thing. 

> She had forgiven him quite quickly ... considering. Angel knew though why it had taken her only a few days to get over the hurt and pain caused by his revelation ... well, to get over it enough to start speaking to him again at least. It had been because of Buffy - the news of Buffy's death as they had just come back to the Hyperion. The news delivered so painfully by Willow. 

> He would never have gotten through that terrible time without Cordelia's stubborn perseverance and desire to help. She had wheedled and cajoled and ordered him out of his room after his second day of seclusion, forcefully proclaiming that Buffy would never have wanted him to waste away because of her. She would never have wanted him to sit back and grieve for her, because they had both known that their time would come ... eventually. 

> And the day that it came for Buffy, Angel realised that he could quite easily have joined her - if not for Cordelia. His best friend, and in a way, his saviour after that day. Even after learning that he had slept with Darla, she hadn't allowed her personal sense of betrayal and hurt to drive her away from him. She had swallowed all the pain and hurt he had caused her and had come back because - he could scarcely believe it - she still cared for him. It was a testament to Cordelia's strength of character that she had the integrity to do that, for *him* ... He who had caused her the pain in the first place. And even though Buffy was now alive and well, he would never forget it. Never forget that Cordelia was there for him when he had needed her the most. 

> "Cordy." His mind was dragged back to the present by her intense gaze. "I promise this is the last time I'll mention it but ..."

> Cordelia cut him off impatiently. "You're *not* going to apologise for the Darla thing again."

> "But Cordy --" She was about to interrupt him again but he brushed her off. "Please, just let me say it ... one more time. You *have* to know I didn't mean for you ... or Wesley or Gunn to get hurt during ... that. It was just ... I was just lost in all this rage and vengeance and ... I just wanted to win. I just wanted to *feel*." 

> "I know." Cordelia said quietly. No matter how big of a pyrotechnic display she had initially put on when she had first found out about Darla, she now understood deep down that Angel had not intended for her to get hurt in any way. And she also understood that the person Angel had hurt the most during that time was himself. 

> "I just ... " He continued, finding the words easier and easier to say. "I just want you to know that I'll never do that to you again." 

> "You better not broody boy." She smiled impishly at him. "Or else it'll take more than half of Rodeo Drive to make me like you again." 

> "Only half?" He bantered. 

> "More than half." She countered. "Like, three quarters." 

> "It'll be worth every cent." Angel found himself grinning back at Cordelia, and it felt good. Really great. 

> Her face fell. "Since it's time for the big confessionals ... It's my turn to tell you about my guilt trip." 

> Angel's face quickly became a mask of concern. "Cordy, what is it?"

> She smiled slightly to reassure him, thinking it was kinda sweet for her formerly stoic friend to show his emotions so completely to her. "Oh no, it's no big. It's just that ... I've got to tell you Angel, I wasn't exactly guilt-free through your Darla crisis." 

> "What do you mean?" He said, puzzled. What did Cordelia have to feel guilty about? 

> "Well ... "Cordelia took a deep breath, about to voice something that had been nagging at her at the back of her mind for ... well, ages. More than ages. "It's just that ... you went all wiggy when Darla was re-vamped and we ... just left you. Alone. To do your vengeance thing." She took a gulp of wine from her glass and continued. "I mean, sure yeah you fired us and made us feel all David Caruso post-NYPD Blue, but we ... *I* shouldn't have just left you like that. I shouldn't have just left you, all alone, just because I was all hurt and stuff. I mean ... look how close you came to complete self-destruction." She said plaintively. "I mean, what if you'd turned back into evil leather-pants wearing Angel? I would've had to stake you ... well, evil Angel anyway. And that would've been bad ... and it would've been all my fault."

> "Cordy." Angel couldn't believe what he was wearing. Couldn't believe that *Cordelia* of all people, could even be blaming herself for the way *she* had acted. Didn't she know that he considered himself the luckiest vampire in the world because she had been strong enough of a person to forgive him for the way he had acted? 

> "Is that really what you've been thinking? That ... you were even to blame for the way I acted to you ... to *all* of you?" Cordelia nodded mutely in response. 

> Angel sat back, momentarily stunned. Two thoughts were whirling simultaneously through his cluttered mind. How could Cordelia feel guilty about that? And ... what could he do to make it better? 

> They were silent as the waiter came to deliver their meals. Cordelia watched idly as the maître'd asked Angel whether he wanted pepper on his steak. She couldn't believe she had just given voice to what had been nagging at her for so long. It was good that she had finally found the courage to do so, but also a little scary. Scary because she didn't want to let on too much about just how important Angel was to her. 

> She sighed. Much as it hurt her to admit it, she had only ever considered herself as possibly the second most important person in his life. Buffy would always come first, and she accepted that. But it didn't make it any easier to live with.

> "Cordy ..." She looked up to find his chocolate brown eyes gazing intently at her. "You ... of all people ... You shouldn't feel guilty about that." He paused as he searched for the right words. "Do you have *any* idea how lucky I think I am that you're even here, talking to me? That ... after all I've done to you ... *hurt* you ... " He could hardly squeeze the words out, "That you're still here with me? Cordelia ... " Angel's expressive orbs were shining with unrepressed emotion. "You're the most important person in the world to me." 

> There ... he had said it. Admitted it to himself and to her, out loud for the first time. It felt incredible, that he had said that one thing that he had been afraid to admit for so long, fearing himself, fearing the depth of his emotion for his best friend. His Cordelia. 

> Cordelia felt her heart lift, but resolved to remain realistic. Of course she was the most important person in the world to him *now* ... She had the visions after all. And he needed the visions to fight whatever the powers that be wanted him to fight. And that was good ... she was glad that she was his link to that. His link to goodness. 

> "I know." She said softly, careful to not betray her deeper emotions. "I'll be with you until you shanshu Angel. I'm vision gal after all ... so you'll always have someone to fight with." She smiled ruefully. 

> Angel detected the faint trace of insecurity in her voice and couldn't believe that even now, she still thought that he cared for her, *loved* her because of her visions. He couldn't care less about the visions. If Cordelia Chase was vision-free, he would still be glad for her intoxicating presence in his life. How could she not know that? 

> "Cordelia. I don't think you're getting me here." He said, his voice deceptively calm. 

> "Hmmm?" 

> "I meant ..." He swallowed. How many times did he need to tell her that she was the most important person in his life before she actually believed it? "I meant what I said. About you being ...ah, important. You're the most important person in my life ... and you'd be even *without* the visions." He stopped and caught her gaze before continuing. "Please tell me you know that. I mean it Cordy. There's never been anyone more important to me than you." 

> "Really?" Cordelia couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. Really? Could it be true? Angel had said to her many times before how he had valued her friendship, but he hadn't ever gone as far as this. It would be ... too good to be true. *Way* too good to be true. 

> She sure as hell hoped it *was* true.

> "Yes." Angel's intense gaze never left Cordelia's now amazed face. "Are you going to make me say it again? 'Cause, I can you know." He smiled. 

> Cordelia paused as she took a few moments to absorb and to bask in the feeling that she was as important to him as he was to her. Could it really be true? 

> One look at Angel's expressive features assured her that *he* certainly thought so. And somehow in the soft, muted atmosphere of her surroundings, with the wine and the food, she found herself believing him. Really and truly believing him, because Angel was her Angel and he was honest, straightforward, and at times, endearingly cute. 

> "Okay. Let's enough with the mutual guilt-fest." She paused as she bit lightly into her salmon. "How about we make a deal?" 

> "What deal?"

> "First, we'll never mention the whole firing, you hurt my feelings thing again."

> "Okay, deal." 

> "Second, I'll actually believe you when you say that I'm important to you." 

> Angel smiled. "And third?" She looked at him puzzled. 

> "There's always a third." Angel explained. 

> Cordelia grinned impishly. "Third ... You treat me to some double choc chip mint fudge ice-cream after dinner and we'll call it even, okay?" 

> Angel smiled, feeling for the first time in the last few months things were well and truly healed. "Okay." 

> "Cool." Cordelia happily delved into the lusciously arranged plate in front of her, unable to contain her happiness at finally sorting things out with Angel. This felt good ... it felt *great*. 

> She sneaked a glance at Angel in front of her, who was busy carving into his steak. "Angel?" 

> "Hmmm?" He looked up, concern momentarily shadowing his face. "Is there anything wrong?"

> "No, just ..." She looked down at his steak, its rare juiciness oozing out and assaulting her senses. "Just ... did you ask for that extra rare 'cause of the blood?"

> Angel looked slightly offended. "What? No. What do you take me for?"

> Cordelia grinned girlishly at him. "A vampire who likes blood?" 

> Angel tried to hide the smile that was stealing over his face but to no avail. "Cordy, I'm trying to eat my steak here. Do you mind?" 

> "Nope." Cordelia threw him her specially patented Cordelia Chase smile, knowing that it would frustrate him. She held her smile until she saw that he was unable to resist doing the same, and they were back to smiling at each other like two high school kids. 

> This was fun, Angel thought. He decided that he could definitely get used to this. Spending time with Cordy ... laughing and smiling despite himself. Making her smile. Maybe it was time he reassessed his earlier decision about remaining just friends. After all, being happy couldn't hurt either of them ... could it? 

(c) Vivian Ngan July 2001

   [1]: mailto:vivngan@iname.com



	5. Part Five

The Colour of Her - Part Five ****

The Colour of Her

By [Viv][1]

*~*~ **Part Five** ~*~*

> Cordelia sighed contently as she gazed out towards the azure waters of Santa Monica Bay, the wind twirling tendrils of her chocolate brown hair maniacally in all directions. At that moment, gazing out into the vast expanse of the ocean, drinking in the deliciously salt-scented tang of the slightly chilly night air, she found herself supremely content with life. Despite the visions, and the no-money situation, Cordelia Chase felt truly happy. 

> She turned and took in the profile of her companion beside her. In that moment of crystal stillness, with his perfectly sculpted hair being buffeted slightly by the breeze and his expressive eyes gazing fixedly out into the vast expanse of nothing, she felt that she could truly understand Angel for the very first time - an old soul trapped within the confines of his demonic vessel, a young man who hadn't known to cherish life until that fateful night when he had made a wrong choice ... and now he was here with her, two hundred whatever years later, atoning for his sins. For past wrongs that he had no control over but nevertheless shared the pain of guilt; the guilt and blood of maybe thousands of innocent lives ... 

> Angel sensed her gazing at him and returned it. For a moment the silence lingered ... and then the tranquillity was broken.

> "What are you thinking about?"

> She smiled mischievously at him. "Just wondering what you were like when you were my age. You know, like a few hundred years younger than what you are now." 

> He protested, "Cordy, I'm only 248!" He glanced around quickly to ensure that there were no errant passers-by. "And you wouldn't have liked me back then." 

> "Why?" Cordelia was definitely curious about what a young, totally inexperienced and innocent Angel was like. The only thing she could imagine about his life back then were the tights. Didn't guys wear tights back then? Hmmm. Angel in tights ... 

> "Well ..." Angel leaned on the railing, cupping his hands together. "I wasn't very nice ... to women."

> "What did you do?"

> "It wasn't what I did, but ... what I *didn't* do. You know, treat them nice." 

> "So you were like, one of those 'I'm going to call you tomorrow but what I really mean is I'll never think of you again' guys? Except ... without the actual calling, since phones were probably not invented yet."

> "Ah ... something like that." Angel fidgeted as he kept his gaze firmly plastered on his hands in front of him. Frankly, he hadn't wanted to reveal to Cordy what kind of a person he had been back then. He knew it had nothing to do with the person he was now, but somehow he didn't want to give Cordy another reason to not like him, now that the whole Darla thing was cleared up. 

> "Angel." Her voice swept him out of his reverie. "You were a good person, right? I mean ... you didn't kill anyone or anything ... went to um, you guys went to church right? I mean, back then with all the ... churches ... and stuff."

> He inhaled deeply. Cordelia seemed to want to know more about him, and ... maybe it was the scenery, the tranquillity of the cool night air, or maybe it was Cordelia herself, willing him to open himself up to her - but he actually found that he could. Talk about that human boy called Liam, about his life, his painful memories. "Well, to quote my father - I was a 'drunken, whoring layabout'. To be honest Cordy I wasn't much good to any one back then. I was ... I wasted a lot of time." 

> Cordelia took it in, wondering how far she could push him until he clamped up. In truth she found it fascinating - that Angel had lived for so long, had been born in a world so different from the one she had been born in. 

> "But ... you loved your family, right?" She turned around and held his gaze. "Sure you were all drunk half the time and useless around the house and stuff - what guy isn't? But ... if anybody wanted to hurt them you'd ..."

> "Yeah." He paused, idly observing his cold fingers clamp and unclamp with tension. "I loved them. They were my family you know ..." And he had killed them, he added silently. 

> Cordelia saw the hallowed pain in his eyes and instinctively reached out to him, placing a smooth hand gently on his clamped fingers. She wanted to say so much at that moment; to let him know that she could understand how much pain and wrong he had done and wouldn't hold it against him. To reassure him that no matter what had happened or what would happen she would always be there with him. Being his friend. 

> Angel looked with slight wonder at the stunning beauty standing beside him, the light from the pier reflecting in her expressive orbs. His heart finally caught a fleeting glimpse of what it was to know unconditional love and trust; to finally sense that no matter how imperfect he was there was still one person in his life who would be willing to forgive everything and be there for him. 

> He let his hands unclasp and placed one of them on top of Cordelia's, feeling the warmth and comfort from her permeate his cold, lifeless skin. He realised that this was what Cordelia's presence in his life felt like - the warmth from her soul permeating the cold ineptness of his. That delicious touch, that laugh, that smile. That soul. 

> "And what about you Cordy?" He asked a touch inquisitively. 

> "What about me?" 

> "I mean, what about your family?" He paused as he drew his jacket further around him. "You never talk about them."

> Cordelia inhaled deeply and decided to let go of the false bravado she usually put on whenever she had to talk about her parents. There was just too much baggage, and too little time to deal. Besides ... it wasn't really all that interesting. 

> "What's to tell? I'm an only child, daddy 'forgot' to pay his taxes for like, twelve years, meaning that instead of me going from home, hotel, hotel, husband, I get to past Go from home, work, fame and hopefully, husband. Nothing much to it really." 

> Angel had long known that Cordelia was usually reserved about her family, but he had only just realised how sensitive she was about the subject. He cursed himself silently that it had taken him this long to realise it, to realise that he wasn't the only one in the universe who had the market cornered for sensitive pasts. Cordelia was only twenty and yet she had always been able to pass herself off with the maturity of someone much older, and Angel had never wondered how she had come to arrive at that point. 

> "But ..." How could he frame it without sounding like he was needlessly pushing her? " ... what was growing up ... for you ... like?"

> Cordelia sighed. Angel evidently wanted the whole sordid family history, and since that he had already given *her* his family saga she felt that she couldn't bail on him. After all, fair was fair. 

> "Okay. You want to know what the deal is?" Angel nodded. "The deal is that until I was seven things were great. Daddy was nice, mom was nice ... even Rosario the maid was nice." Cordelia sighed. "She's still nice." She looked away for a moment, steeling herself to expose that part of her that not many people had had the privilege of seeing before. The part of her that was vulnerable, scared and insecure. Which was precisely the reason why Cordelia hardly ever let her out on day trips. 

> "What happened ... when you were seven?" 

> Cordelia let her gaze fall back onto Angel's expressive eyes. "Barbie number one came. And mom thought the best way to deal was with a few guys of her own. You know ... Jim Beam, Jack's ..." She tried to rein in the bitterness in her tone. "Meanwhile I grew up. I grew smart ... I learnt that the best way to get what I wanted was to play hardball with Daddy ..." She gulped. "To get all the things I thought I wanted. The car ... the clothes ..." She smiled ruefully at Angel, an empathetic expression diffusing over his face. "I think what I wanted most was their attention, you know?" 

> Angel couldn't help it, he just had to hug her. No matter how strong Cordelia was, even she needed someone to lean on once in a while. And Angel didn't mind at all if he was the 'lean on' guy for Cordy. "You'll always have my attention Cordy." 

> Cordelia revelled in the comfort of Angel's embrace before deftly disentangling herself. "Well on the bright side, if Daddy had never forgotten to pay his taxes I'd never have come to LA and known how lame your singing actually is."

> "It's not that bad." 

> "And I would never have known my best friend." 

> Angel paused, happily absorbing that reality. "I'm glad ..." He stuck his hands back into his pockets. "Say, isn't it time for that double choc chip mint fudge now?"

> "You tell me broody boy, you're buying." 

> "Come on." He grabbed her hand, playfully tugging her along the length of the pier. "So, I heard from Lorne the other day that you actually wanted to sing 'Xanadu'. Cordy ..." He looked at her, his face melting into Cordelia's favourite Angel puppy dog expression, "How could you?"

> She was ready for him. "Oh don't start with me Mr 'I'm so cool I always want to sing Barry Manilow'. What was the deal with Coco Cabana? I knew you like Manilow and all but ... couldn't you have just given it a rest for *one night*?" 

> "I happen to like --" Angel was interrupted by an eruption of Cordelia's giggling. It burst from her like sunshine after rain. "I happen to like ... the words." 

> Cordelia giggled even harder, and after an interminable few minutes Angel found himself joining her. Why did she always have this effect on him? 

> Not that he minded ... really. 

(c) Vivian Ngan July 2001

   [1]: mailto:vivngan@iname.com



	6. Part Six

The Colour of Her  ****

The Colour of Her 

By [Viv][1]

*~*~ **Part Six** ~*~*

Cordelia giggled, unable to control the mirth stealing over her whole body. There was something about a likewise laughing Angel that made it impossible for her to stop. 

"Oh no... oh no stop." Cordelia grabbed onto her sides that threatened to split open from laughing so hard. "Stop it Angel! I *don't* want to know any more!" 

"But Cordy, don't you want to know what other songs I sing when I'm in the shower?" 

"Stop!" She stuck her fingers in her ears. "Lala la la la. I can't hear you!" 

Angel gently removed her hands from her ears and continued. "You know, I've been practicing 'Stairway to Heaven' ..." Another outburst of laughter followed from Cordelia. 

"Oh ... oh god." Cordelia rasped between much needed breaths. "Oh god Angel. You're so ... you're so *weird*." 

"I know. But you still love me, right?" 

"Yeah I still love you." They paused, an unexpected silence descending. Cordelia suddenly realised that their 'love' could in actuality be deepening into something ... more. But what? 

But how could there be more? She had realised long ago that she had secretly harboured ... well, more than friendly urges for her former boss. And even though the events of the last few months had hinted to her that maybe Angel had reciprocated those feelings to some degree, she had never thought they would ever act upon it. Mainly because of the whole curse thing. Sure it was dealable when Angel was all friendly and nice, but what if they went further and ended up going pelvic? And - best case scenario? He'd experience that one moment of true happiness with her that would bring the leather pants wearing side of Angel out. Worst case scenario? They would find out she and Darla had one thing in common - *not* making Angel truly happy during sex. 

"Hey, you're shivering." Cordelia tried to shake the kooky thoughts from her mind. Going pelvic with Angel was ... the *farthest* thought from her mind right now. Particularly now as he was taking his jacket off and wrapping it around her, his body so close she could feel his breath on her skin. 

Angel was inhaling unnecessary air just to keep himself calm. Noticing that Cordelia had been trembling with the steadily cooling night, he had unthinkingly decided that he should take his jacket off for her, forgetting of course, the actually put it on her part. 

He took a deep breath and hoped that he wasn't giving himself away. This was bad. He had had decades to learn to stay in control over his urge for human blood, only to find that same control wasn't really helping with that other urge. The urge for Cordelia. 

"Is that better? Ah ... warmer?" He looked at her, scanning her face.

"What? Yeah, thanks." She unthinkingly stuffed her cold hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Won't you be cold?" 

Angel stood beside her, his red silk shirt buffeted by the slight breeze. "Ah ... vampires don't feel cold remember?" 

"They don't?" Angel shook his head. "Then why do you always wear those huge billowy coats all the time, even during summer?" 

Angel was puzzled, unable to find an answer to her impeccable logic. "I don't know. I guess ... I just like to."

Cordelia smiled. That was *so* like Angel. "So you could be all cool and mysterious guy." 

"That's it." He smiled back. 

They walked along in silence until Cordelia caught site of the Ferris wheel. "Angel ..."

Angel took one look at its size and shook his head. "Oh no ..." 

"But Angel," she pouted, artfully showing her lower lip. "Please?" 

Angel looked again at the wheel ... looked to the height that it reached. "I'm scared of heights." 

Cordelia did a double-take. "Angel, you're a vampire. If you fall off you can't die."

"I know." Angel said plaintively. "It's just that ... me and heights ... it goes way back ... it's not pretty ..." 

Cordelia was puzzled. "But I've seen you do your stalking thing up on roofs and stuff. You've leaped between buildings with a single bound. You've ..."

"It's just something ... I mean, with buildings you've got your bricks, you've got your mortar. With those things ..." he glanced up at the Ferris wheel, "you've got nothing. Air. A whole lot of air. Are you sure you don't want to, oh I don't know, eat? Maybe we could have coffee. I like coffee."

"Angel ... please?"

Angel took one look at her expectant face and capitulated. Was there anything in the world he wouldn't do for her? "Okay. Just remember ... I'm doing this for you Cordy."

"My hero." She smiled girlishly at him. "Oh, don't forget to buy the ice-creams! Double--"

"--choc chip mint fudge, yes I know." Angel finished for her. "Anything else?"

"Nope." She grinned in satisfaction. Cordelia could definitely get used to this. Getting Angel to do whatever she wanted *without* the guilt trip. This was way better than manipulating him with the Darla thing, because he was doing this because he wanted to be with her. Which could only be all good. 

***

"Angel, you're so stiff. Could you just relax already?"

Angel kept his gaze straight ahead, looking out towards the vast expanse of Santa Monica Bay. "Remember this was your idea Cordy. I told you, me and heights ..." He carefully avoided looking down and pretended not to notice the violent jolting of the car as it carried them higher and higher ... and then abruptly stopped. 

"Cordy." Angel felt utterly ridiculous, being trapped inside an old rickety car on an even older Ferris Wheel. "You know I'll still hurt like hell if this thing breaks and we fall off, don't you? I mean, I won't *die*, but --"

"Relax vampire boy." Cordelia looked at him pointedly. "By the way, if this thing breaks *I'm* the one that's gonna be Creme Broulee. Just look at the view and you'll be fine."

He *was* looking at the view. Seeing Cordelia against the stunning backdrop of the Californian starlit sky was certainly a view to savour. In fact, it was all he had been looking at. 

"So I'm thinking that this is *another* one of those things you don't put on your creature of the night resume." Angel looked at her inquiringly. "You know, 'scared of heights' ... along with singing, dancing and tanning?" 

"I dance." Angel objected indignantly. Sure he didn't do the type of dancing so popular in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, but he still had some moves on him. He could slow dance and ... waltz. He did a mean waltz. 

"What like, waltzing? That doesn't count. Anybody can waltz. My uncle Ebenezer can waltz. Even the homeless guy three blocks down from Wesley's apartment can waltz. " She leaned closer to him, assaulting his senses unwittingly with her fragrance. "I'm talking about moving in time with the music, letting the beat overtake your whole body, letting go and just seeing where it takes you. You know ... dancing." 

Angel twisted in his seat as he was assaulted by a slew of images of Cordelia swaying sensually to some music, eyes closed, a picture of surrender and invitation. 

"Yeah but, you know ..." He tried to exorcise the persistent imagery out of his mind. "Slow dancing is good too. You've got your mood music, your touching, your ah ..." Oh god. Did he have to go there? Now instead of image after image of just Cordelia dancing alluringly in front of him he had a mental slide show of holding her in his arms, swaying gently to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, her breath searing his cold skin with its fire, its warmth ...

"Yeah I've seen you slow dance with ..." She paused, silently cursing herself for nearly bringing up the B-word. Just when they were having such a great time. Did she *really* need another session with broody Angel? "With um ... hey how about those stars? All bright and ... shiney." 

"It's okay Cordelia." She turned slightly to face him, half-afraid of seeing how much Angel was still hurting due to her Buffy comment. 

But he surprised her by smiling gently. "You can say it ... her name I mean. I won't go broody on you." 

Cordelia kept her doubt to herself. "Don't get me wrong Angel. It's not like I don't like her or anything ... and it's not like I don't know what she meant ... I mean, means to you." She bit her lip. "I just didn't want to see you all mopey tonight, just when you were having such a good time." 

"Cordelia," surprise colouring his voice. "I won't fall to pieces every time you mention Buffy's name." He paused, his mind reeling with explanations. "I love her, I always will. But ..." Seeing Cordelia's face drop, he hurried on. "But you know, we just weren't meant to be. I mean, she needed a normal guy in her life, and I obviously wasn't it." He paused. "Doyle told you about that day when I turned human, right?" 

She nodded. "The day you made the Powers take back." 

"Yeah. You know why I did that?" This was hard. Angel wasn't too keen on revisiting old memories, particularly as painful as the ones associated with Buffy. But he had to make Cordelia understand the way he felt right now. Somehow that was really important. 

Cordelia shook her head. 

"It was because I saw what our future would've been like if I had stayed human." He paused as he fought the onslaught of memories of that night, when he had battled that demon without his vampiric strength and had been seriously hurt. "She would've died. *I* would've have died. But ... most importantly ... those people we were meant to help would've died. I couldn't let that happen."

"I know." She whispered, hating to hear the tremble of pain in his voice. 

He swallowed but forced himself to continue. "But you know what else I realised? That I've only just realised?" 

Cordelia shook her head again. Maybe if it happened once with Buffy it could happen again? 

"That all these obstacles ... these reasons ... they've all led me here. To L.A ... to you and Wesley and Gunn and Fred. Maybe this is what I'm meant to be doing and ... who I'm meant to be sharing my life with. Which would mean ... that all the choices I've made up until now have led me here to this very moment." With you, he added silently. "Buffy will ... always be in my past, and I've accepted that." He took a deep breath, hardly believing what he was about to say. "I've moved on. I'll always love Buffy, but ... I'm not *in* love with her any more. In a way ... I think I that when she died, I grieved for both her *and* our possible future together, and now--"

"--and now?"

"It's all different. I'm different." 

There was silence as Cordelia tried to absorb everything he was saying. "I'm glad." She said quietly. "I mean, I'm glad that you're not still hurting, and stuff." She paused, looking down at her toes. "And how come I had to drag you here just to hear all this stuff about you Angel? You know we could've had this conversation on sea level, and judging by the way that you're scrunching up all over the place it would've been a lot more comfortable." 

Angel returned her daring grin. "What can I say? Me and heights ..." 

She beamed at him. "Now aren't you glad I bullied you up here?" 

"Yeah." He shifted closer to her, studiously avoiding rocking the car. "What would I do without you Cordy?"

"Well, I guess you would've coped if I'd ended up stuck in Pylea." 

"I would never have left you there." Angel turned, his earnestly endearing eyes boring into hers. "That was never a possibility, even if ... even if it meant that I could never return." 

"Really?" Cordelia asked incredulously. "But ... what if I get stuck in some other demon dimension place? What about your shanshuing and stuff?" 

Angel shook his head. "I'd still ..."

"You'd still? Really?"

"Absolutely." 

Cordelia shifted, creeping closer and closer to Angel until her body was moulded next to his. "You're sweet. Broody, but sweet. " She sighed as she leaned her head on his shoulder, her face grazing the slinky smoothness of his shirt. She felt him shift and put his arms around her and Cordelia was content.

At that moment Angel was content. The stars twinkled in the clear night sky and the sounds of the crowd below wafted up to them in a cacophony of sounds. But he neither saw nor heard them, because at that moment he held Cordelia in his arms ... and everything was perfect. 

   [1]: mailto:vivngan@iname.com



	7. Part Seven

colour7 ****

The Colour of Her 

By [Viv][1]

> *~*~ **Part Seven** ~*~*

> "That was fun." Angel stopped short just as Cordelia withdrew her keys to her apartment.

> She turned around. "Yeah ... It was." An awkward silence ensued as Angel grasped for the right words to describe what a magical night it had been. 

> It *had* been magical. Fun, nice, gentle, promising ... and magical. Never in his two-hundred and something odd years as a vampire had Angel experienced such light-hearted happiness. Sure he had loved during that time, but the love had pulled him in all directions, flooded him with its inexorable passion, a tide that was so all-encompassing it had ultimately swept all happiness away. 

> But this was different. This was slow, sensual, sweet. Cordelia was first and foremost his best friend, and anything that would or could arise between them was just an added bonus. And tonight had proved that - he had asked her out to dinner because he had wanted to see her happy, see her smile ... and if he made himself happy in the process that was just a happy consequence. 

> But could this really last? Could they have this added closeness, this increased affection and not have the consequences that came with it? 

> "Cordy ..."

> She looked down at her hands, fearful of what Angel was going to say yet knowing its inevitability. 

> "... What's happening here?" He couldn't keep the hesitation out of his voice as he looked hopefully at his beautiful companion. Was there a way, somehow, somewhere that the fairy tale of this night could continue? 

> "I don't know Angel." She sighed as she turned the keys in the door, letting them both into her apartment. "I mean ... I had fun. And that was good, right?" 

> Angel watched her as she dumped her keys on the table. "Yes but ... I mean, what's happening here? With us?" He sighed in frustration, gazing at Cordelia in front of him helplessly. "I'm ... I'm feeling something Cordy. And ... I'm not sure ... what are we going to do about it?" 

> Cordelia returned his gaze steadily. "What do you want to do about it?" 

> Angel ran his hands through his wind-swept hair. "I don't know. I want ... I'd *like* to ... have more nights, you know, like tonight." He smiled. "But ... there's the whole vampire situation. And the curse thing. It wouldn't be fair on you, even if ... I mean, you're young and beautiful, and you should have someone *normal* in your life. I'm ... I'm the opposite of normal." 

> Cordelia marched up to him, keeping her gaze firmly plastered on his face as she said softly, "But what if I don't want normal?" She questioned him, arching an eyebrow in defiance. "What if I'm sick and tired of normal ... of doing what's right, or doing what *should* be done? What if I just want to be happy?" 

> "But Cordelia." Angel sighed. "It can't ... it wouldn't be good for you. You must see that." 

> "Angel. I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions." She sighed as she bit back the rising acridness of her tone. "I had fun tonight, didn't you? I mean ... I really had *fun*. I don't remember the last time I had that much fun." She added softly. 

> Angel smiled in agreement. "Me too." 

> "Yeah, so ...?"

> "So ... maybe we should wait. You know, see how things pan out?" Angel added helpfully.

> "And see how much, you know, fun we can have ... until we stop having fun." 

> Angel paused in consideration. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt if we just went out ... you know, as friends."

> "Yeah." Cordelia chimed in, liking the direction the conversation was going in. "And you know, friends do stuff. Like going on dinner dates ..."

> "... having coffees together ..."

> "... seeing a movie or two ... or three or four ..."

> "... and you know friends go dancing with each other ..."

> "So." Cordelia grinned at Angel expectantly. "Do you think we can do the friend thing?"

> Angel nodded, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. "I'm sure of it. I mean ... we're already friends, right? What's the harm in remaining ... friends?" 

> "None whatsoever." Cordelia grinned impishly. 

> Angel found the fairy tale much easier to believe in Cordelia's presence, but he knew that once he was out of her intoxicating vicinity, he would be beset by the same doubts that would continue to plague him about her. About them. 

> The mature, responsible and he conceded, the guilt-ridden part of his mind screamed to him that this was all wrong. It was wrong because he didn't *deserve* to be happy. After all the innocent lives he had taken, how could he have the gall to even *try* to be happy? How could he, having not fully atoned for his past sins be worthy of this happiness? Be worthy of Cordelia? 

> He frowned. He wanted her to be happy, he truly did. And he certainly wanted to be happy ... and what was happiness without Cordelia? But he owed it to her to try to make her see how *wrong* this was. How truly undeserving he was of her love. 

> "Cordy." He said as she stepped closer and closer to him, titillating his finely-honed vampiric senses with every step. "You have to realise what you're getting yourself into. I mean, I ..." He caught another whiff of her delicious scent. "I think .. I really, kinda, you know, love you ..." She arched an eyebrow in acknowledgment but continued her progress, " ... which is, you know, great. But I'm a vampire Cordy. I mean as vampires go I'm pretty nice, but ... I'm still a vampire." He started retreating backwards, wanting to say what needed to be said. "And vampires ... have needs. You know, with the blood sucking and other ... stuff. There's a lot you don't know about my demon ... I mean, I'm good at the control thing, I've had a lot of practice at it, but frankly ... I mean, there's ... stuff you don't know ..." He finished helplessly.

> Cordelia had somehow skilfully cornered him. Angel found himself ... cornered, with absolutely no room to manoeuvre. No room at all. 

> She pinned him next to the wall, one hand obstructing his last chance of escape. Her eyes glittered in the dimly lit apartment, and Angel felt himself becoming mesmerised by its glint. Cordelia looked ... she looked very dangerous. Yes, there was definitely a dangerous glint in her eyes. But she also looked really, out-of-this world, amazingly ... sexy. 

> "Angel?"

> "Hmmm?" He couldn't stop staring into her eyes. 

> "Shut up and kiss me." 

> With that Angel lost all ability to control himself as he quickly returned her passionate kiss, his arms quick to entwine themselves around her body. He felt himself being pressed further and further into the curves of her body by the sheer force of her passion, and Angel felt the last remnants of restraints snap as he returned it to her with a vengeance. 

> Cordelia was lost in the urgency and passion of the kiss, so much so that one minute she felt herself pinning Angel to the wall of her apartment, and the next she found herself on the floor, ripping Angel's silk shirt off and nearly snapping the buttons in the process. Her pulse quickened even more at the sight of a shirtless Angel perched on top of her, his well-sculpted body pale and heaving in the dim light. Was this perfection? She wondered silently within the vaults of her mind. 

> And then all other thoughts were driven out of her mind as he slowly, deliberately leaned in. Closer and closer he came to her lips, his hands simultaneously snaking their way up her body on its seductive journey. Slowly they crept up the length of her legs, her thighs, her hips as she sank into his kiss. Cordelia felt herself shivering involuntarily at his touch as he let his hands stop, stationing them at her waist. 

> What was the vampire doing? Cordelia almost growled. She grabbed his hand with one of her own and guided it almost urgently under her top, her skin tingling, letting them rest over the curve of her breast. 

> The invitation seemed to be enough for Angel; with astonishing dexterity he quickly undid the straps that was holding her top up and allowed his hands full range over her entire body, exploring its every dip and curve. Cordelia arched her back involuntarily as Angel gently dipped his head onto the curve of her neck, lightly brushing his lips to her increasingly warm skin. 

> This felt ... well, obviously it felt damn good. More than just 'good'. But somehow a small shred of Cordelia's mind remained intact enough to warn her not to go beyond the limits of their 'friendship'. If she was really going to make it work with Angel in the long run, vampire with a soul, it had to stop - now. Before they went past the point of no return. 

> "Angel." She stopped her rampant hands almost regretfully and sighed. She felt him likewise stiffen as he realised the impossibility of what they had been about to do. 

> He sighed almost despairingly. "We can't do this."

> She shook her head although Angel was still dipped into the curve of her neck. "Um ... so I guess you should, you know, get up." 

> Angel lifted his head and looked down at her, straight into her eyes. "I guess I should." He couldn't however resist the temptation of looking down onto her uncovered chest, now devolved of her top. "Nice view." He smirked. 

> Cordelia wacked him playfully in the chest before covering herself with her discarded top. "You better believe it, vampire boy. Careful diet, good mileage. Now scoot." 

> He smiled as he rolled off her reluctantly and went in search of his shirt. A part of him yearned to take her into his arms again and ravage her like there was no tomorrow, but he was definitely glad that Cordelia had had the maturity and presence of mind to put a stop to ... whatever they had been doing. Because he wanted his tomorrow to be with Cordelia, and if they had done anything more it would've made it nearly impossible. Nearly impossible because of the curse ... and a whole lot of other vampire-related concerns. 

> Angel carefully buttoned his shirt up as Cordelia watched. While it had been good, she wanted to be able to have a tomorrow with Angel that would be fun. Free of all the curse related angst, free of all the 'we've had sex and what are we going to do now' angst. Free to be with Angel, her best friend ... her saviour ... her soul. 

> "So ..." His head snapped up at the sound of her voice. 

> "I guess I should go." He looked intensely at her, his eyes sparkling. "It was ... fun, Cordy." 

> She giggled, and Angel had to laugh along with her at the inaneness of his remark. It made his heart feel a little lighter, and he realised that even though he wanted so much more with her, he was content to take what she was able to give. Content to share what he was able to give. This was good. But most importantly of all, it felt right. 

> She ushered him out the door, and he was about to walk away when she called him back. "Angel?" 

> "Yes, Cordy?" 

> "You free tomorrow night? You know, we could have dinner or something ... as friends." She smiled mischievously. 

> He grinned back at her as he pretended to sigh. "I'm buying, aren't I?"

> "Yeah, but it'll be worth every cent." 

> "I'll bet." He muttered as he turned around and started down the apartment stairs. 

> A tiny smile crept over his features as he heard the door close behind him. Jingling his keys in his hand, he mind raced over how in just one night, his entire world had changed. It had changed because now Angel was intoxicated. He was intoxicated with *all* of Cordelia ... her smile, her taste, her scent, her soul ... her vibrant colour. There was just so much of her to know, to discover, to learn.

> And Angel couldn't wait to begin his lesson. 

> [END]

(c) Vivian Ngan July 2001

   [1]: mailto:vivngan@iname.com



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